Sunday Mutton

A Sunday in any market in Bengal would see a long queue of people outside the mutton shop. After the whole week of fish curry or egg curry, we traditionally reserve Sundays for the incredible mutton curry. Served with a nice big wedge of lemon and onion rings on the side, Sunday's lunch is made special with that hot mutton curry and rice.

For a long while, mutton was my favourite meat. More specifically, the mutton my mother made was my favourite, and any other way of making it seemed like a waste of the meat. I think I still believe that somewhere, and apart from the quintessential mutton biryani, I don't like mutton in any other way. Well, almost.

So here it is, my mother's ubersimple mutton curry.

What You need:
Mutton (of course), onion paste, ginger garlic paste, tomatoes, turmeric powder, red chilli powder, garam masala powder, cumin powder, coriander powder, oil, salt, sugar, potatoes.

How I do it:
In a pressure cooker, add mutton and all other ingredients, except potatoes, and mix well with a spatula. Close cooker and let it cook for at least 5/6 whistles.

Turn off the heat and let the cooker cool down. Remove the lid and put it back on heat again. The mutton would have softened considerably by now. Let some of the moisture steam off and add the potatoes. Add water according to how much gravy you want and close the lid again. Wait for 3/4 whistles and turn off the heat. Remove the lid only when you are ready to serve.

Begooner Jhaal

In a Bengali household, the most traditional thing to do with brinjals is to simply cut it in roundels and deep fry it with a little salt and turmeric. The humble "begoon bhaja" takes on divine proportions when served with luchi or even hot rice. Another very popular thing to do with brinjals is to have beguni - thin strips of the vegetable batter fried and served with hot rice or even muri and cha in the evening.

Then there was the Punjabi influence where we made begoon bharta, or the very Bengali begoon diye maach er jhol...there are other dishes too, and for those of us who love the vegetable, there are ample options in Bengali cuisine to experiment with it.

This recipe for example, comes from my husband's great-aunt. I had never made it, or even heard of it before i got instructions for making it from my mother in law. A lot of people would wonder how you can mix a paste of onion-ginger-garlic with eggplants, and to be honest, I did too. But then when I made it, and had it with rice, it was really, really amazing. The taste is very layered...you get the tangy sour of the tamarind first, and then the sweet and finally the heat, and then it all combines again to give you a taste like no other. Only, be careful about the amount of salt you add because by the time the eggplants go into the gravy, they are already salted.

What You Need:
Eggplants, cut into strips, Onion-ginger-garlic paste, Tamarind pulp, Salt and sugar, turmeric powder, chili powder, panchforan, oil

How I did it:
Cut the brinjal into strips and lightly smear with salt and turmeric powder. Fry in oil and set aside.

Heat oil and add panchforan. When it sizzles, add the onion-ginger-garlic paste and fry very well. Add the turmeric and red chilli powder and salt.

Now add the tamarind pulp and sugar and gently tip in the fried brinjals into this. Coat the strips of brinjal in this and wait till the gravy gets your desired consistency. It should not be too runny or too dry. And since this goes best with rice, leave enough to mix the rice with. Remove and serve.

Kochur Loti

I am Bangal, which means I come from the other side of the border. My family migrated at the time of partition and even if the Bengalis on this side of the border call us refugees, we like to believe that we came, we saw, we conquered. In any case, we did teach those Bengalis what real food should be like.

The one good thing about us Bangals is that we don't waste food. We use up almost every edible part of what we are eating. In the case of colocassia, for example, we eat the root, the stem, the leaves and the fruit. Ghotis, or the original inhabitants of West Bengal don't, but then, remember we taught them how to eat.

Kochur loti or the colocassia stem, looks quite ordinary. You would ignore it as dry shrubbery if you are not acquainted with it. What you need to do though, is get a good peeler and work your way down from the top. Peel off the brown/green skin and the white skin just underneath or you will get a bad sore throat. I should have taken a photo of the thing before I cooked it, but a Google search gave me this photo. Peel the whole thing off:

 

We cook it with a paste of mustard and poppy seeds - shorshe posto bata. It is a bit of an acquired taste, and my very Ghoti husband detests it, but in Bangal circles, it is still quite the dish!

What you need:

Nigella seeds/kalo jeere, Green chillies, oil, salt to taste, turmeric powder, a paste of mustard and poppy seeds (2:1)

How I Do It:

Peel the colocassia stem very well. Now cut it into 2-inch long pieces. Bring a pot of salted water to boil and tip in the cleaned and cut stems. 

Now heat oil and temper with kalo jeere and green chillies. When it sizzles, add the mustard-poppy paste, turmeric and salt. Cook till the raw smell leaves and add the boiled stems. Add a little sugar and mix it all up so the extra moisture steams off and the shorshe-posto bata sticks to the stems. Serve hot with rice. 

Hing-Tomato Diye Aalur Dum

Aalu, or potatoes, are a favourite among Bengalis. We love the taste of potatoes in everything, and have ample recipes to make with the veggie too. But I think apart from aalubhate and aalu posto, what we absolutely love is Aalur dum. We carry it when we are travelling by train, we send our kids lunchboxes packed with it, we have it on special days when we don't have fish or meat...the versatility is mindblowing. And every family has its own recipes for the thing.

This one is from my husband's grandmother. She is no more, but legends of her culinary skills endure. Apart from this aalu dum, the one thing she is known most for are cocktail samosas...tiny little triangles filled with veggies and mixed with ingredients she took with her to the grave. I haven't seen her, or tasted the samosas, but those who have, still cannot deconstruct the samosas well enough to know what secrets she was putting in them.

My mother in law passed down this recipe to me, and trust me, this is an amazing way to make aalur dum. The tomatoes add a lovely tang to it, the hing makes the dish very aromatic, and the dry red chillies add enough zing to it. Try it and tell me what you think of it.

What You Need:
Potatoes, tomatoes, hing, panch foran, dry red chillies, ginger paste, turmeric powder, salt to taste, sugar, oil

How I Do It:

Heat oil and fry the halved, peeled potatoes till golden. Remove and keep aside.

In the same oil, add the broken dry red chilli peppers and hing. Now add the panchforan, and as soon as you hear a sizzle, add the chopped tomatoes and ginger paste. Now cook till tomatoes turn soft and oil begins to separate.

Now add the potatoes, turmeric powder, salt and some sugar and stir to coat. Add a little water, lower the flame and cook till the water steams off and the potatoes are softened. Remove and serve.

Bengali Cholar Dal

Chholar dal is unlike any other dal in the Bengali household. We have a clear hierarchy, you see. The red lentil, or Mushoor dal is for everyday. it is a watered down dal that you have with rice and some wonderful-smelling lemon. Moong dal is for when you invite people over, and the aromatic dal is served with piping hot rice and some bhaja on the side. It is also the dal that takes a lot of forms: you can cook it with lau, bori, other veggies and a host of other things.

 But chholar dal outranks moong dal. It is for absolutely special days. These are days when we have luchi or parota instead of bhaat. For mothers, it is the day of Shashti. For others, it is the Ashtami noon when Bengalis generally have vegetarian lunches, or on birthdays when you are served a special meal. And almost always, chholar dal is served with luchi or parota. It is sweet, thick, and has bits of coconut in it, often raisins and cashews...and makes the perfect accompaniment to the divine, white luchis that are served to you straight from the wok.

I am not a huge fan of dal generally, but I do have a huge thing for chholar dal. My earliest memories of it are of my uncle getting huge tiffin carriers of it to our place. He had a flourishing caterer business and often at night, after yet another wedding, he'd stop by our place to drop off the leftover biryani or radhaballabhi and chholar dal because he knew I loved those things. He passed away a long time ago, and then the apple fell far from the tree, so my treats stopped. And these days Bengalis don't seem to prefer radhaballabhis and chholar dals at weddings at all. It's all about Baby Nuns and Navratan Kormas.

So the only times I get to have chholar dal these days are when it is made at home. The taste of my uncle's cook is never there, but what the hell, this is something at least, right?

When you cook it, do remember that chholar dal takes a  little longer than moong or mushoor dal to cook and it gets thicker when it rests. It is supposed to be sweet-ish and definitely not soupy. 

What You Need:

Chholar dal, turmeric powder, salt to taste, cumin seeds, chopped coconuts, raisins, cashewnuts, dry red chillies, ginger paste, ghee

How I do it:

Wash the dal and put it in a pressure cooker to cook. Do not overcook, the grains should still be separate. 

Now heat oil, fry the chopped coconut pieces, raisins and cashews and drain. Set aside.

Heat ghee and temper with cumin seeds. Now add the ginger paste and red chilli peppers and wait till the raw smell of ginger leaves.

Add the boiled dal to this. Also add the fried coconut, raisins and cashews as well as the turmeric powder, salt and sugar (the dal should be sweet, remember?). Bring to a boil and remove. Add a little ghee from the top and serve.